Veil of Glass
by JennMel
Summary: It is one thing to lose a member of your family. It is all the more torturous to watch as you lose them from the inside out.
1. Part One

Author Notes: I've been writing this on and off for a while now, and have finally decided to post. I've read some great stories in this fandom, so I hope you like this. This is centred on Alan, and follows the movieverse, set after the film. Hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: Nope, not mine, none of it.

**Veil of Glass **

Part One

Alan sat on his bed, gently turning the pin over in his hands. All his life, he had been surrounded by the Thunderbirds, it was all he had ever really known. Even before International Rescue had been active, his father had been designing it. The island was more his home than the old family house could ever have been. This pin represented more than just his family acceptance of him into their secret way of life, because it was something good, something that had risen out of hell.

Alan involuntarily shivered, remembering that one horrible plummeting feeling when Thunderbird 5 was about to descend into the atmosphere, and no one had been answering their calls. In that moment, he had honestly believed that he had lost his whole family. More so, all he could think of was the argument he and his father had before they had left to save John. A knock on his doorframe caught his attention, and he looked up to see his eldest brother standing in the open doorway, "Hey Alan. I was wondering if you were up for a training session in Thunderbird 1 tomorrow; Virg is taking Fermat and Tin Tin out in Thunderbird 2, but Dad figured that two newbies were enough for our brother to handle."

Alan grinned, "That'd be great!" He didn't bother hiding his enthusiasm.

Scott smiled in return, "I want you up and ready by 6am; Dad wants us to start repairs on John's bird tomorrow, so we'll need to be back well before lunch. Night sprout!"

Alan would have yelled a retort at his big brother for the nickname, but he couldn't shake the nerves he was suddenly feeling. Not because of the training session tomorrow, but of the idea that his family would be going back _up there_. He berated himself for being so stupid. They went into life or death situations on rescues every day. There was no reason this should be any different. The Hood was in prison, he couldn't touch his family anymore.

* * *

Alan woke up the next morning with a splitting headache. He glanced at the clock. 7:30am. Shit! He leapt out of bed, trying to ignore to spinning pain that the movement elicited from his head, and threw on some clothes. If he was this late, why hadn't Scott woken him up? His ran out into the dining area. It was empty. Confused to not see at least one person groggily stuffing their face, Alan padded through to the living room. Again, nothing. An inexplicable panic started to rise in his throat, but he quashed it, maybe they were on a rescue?

Convincing himself that was the truth, he walked as calmly as he could to his father's office. It was empty; control wasn't set up. Alan was truly panicking now, the pain in his head worsening as his breathing quickened, coming in short, sharp gasps. "Dad!" His voice echoed too loudly in the empty space, "_Dad!_"

Alan's voice hitched, and tears stung his eyes. They were all gone.

_They're dead, _he realised, _You never saved them._

His vision skipped in multicoloured blurs as it began to grey around the edges, his panicked state causing him to hyperventilate. He backed up, attempting to leave the unnaturally empty room, but his back connected with the cool wall, and his legs gave out, making him half-slide, half-collapse to the floor. Curling into himself, Alan hugged his knees, tears wrenching through his body in harsh sobs.

Suddenly a pair of strong hands were grasping at his shoulders, and a voice was yelling something.

John had been grabbing a drink from the fridge when he heard someone crashing around in the living room. He had just finished up acting as control for a rescue, and was exhausted; he still wasn't fully healed from the attack, although it was nice to have his arm out of the sling. Thankfully he hadn't broken it, but the tendons had been pretty damaged. The call had come in at three in the morning, picked up by their secondary system on the island. Mud slide in Brazil. The others were on their way home now, and he knew that Onaha would soon be shooing him out of the kitchen so she could make some breakfast. Tintin and Fermat were down on the beach, having to forego the training session, and he knew Alan was still dead to the world; he had decided to turn the kid's alarm off and give him some extra sleep, if just so they didn't have to deal with a grouchy Alan later in the day.

A yell caused his head to snap up. It sounded like Alan. "_Dad!_" A second yell, this one much more panicked, scared. Worried, John ran in the direction of the yell, ignoring his ribs protesting at the movement. Skidding into their father's office, at first John thought it was empty, and then he heard sobbing to his right. Turing in shock, John saw his youngest brother curled up on the floor, clearly worked into a terrified panic. John hadn't seen him this scared since he was really little.

Crouching on the floor, John tried to shake Alan back to reality, but his brother's eyes were unseeing, too lost in fear. "Alan! Alan, it's John. Look at me Alan, I need you to calm down. It's okay, everything's fine." He took Alan's face in his hands, looking into his eyes. "Alan, Alan, please..."

John was scared. He knew Alan was having a panic attack, but he couldn't seem to calm him down, especially as he didn't know what had caused it. The rest of their family wouldn't be back for another half hour. Not knowing what else to do, John gathered his little brother in his arms, rocking him gently and stroked his hair, just as their father had done when they were ill as children.

Gradually, Alan's breathing slowed, the sobs becoming less hitched and panicked. John felt his brother curl his fingers tightly into his shirt, and press his body closer, as if scared John would disappear. "John?"

John loosened his hold so he could look at his brother properly, "Yeah, Allie, it's me." The childhood nickname of their littlest brother fell automatically from his lips, "How're you feeling?"

Confusion marred his younger brother's tear-stained features. "You're not dead."

John failed to hide the shock he felt from that statement. He hugged Alan tighter, "No, Allie, I'm not dead. Everything's fine."

"Is...is D-dad d-d-dead..?" Alan's speech came out fragmented and broken.

"No!" John's reaction was sharper than he intended. He softened his tone, "No. They're on their way home; just getting back from a rescue. We're all okay, Allie, everyone's fine."

Alan nodded jerkily, but his grip on John didn't relinquish, "Sorry."

John sighed, adjusting his position so he had his back to the wall and Alan next to him. "Want to tell me what happened?"

"I woke up, and I couldn't find anyone. I thought...I thought you were gone." It seemed stupid now, but at the time, the possibility had seemed all too real. Alan's head pounded, the pain worse than before from all the crying. He was glad it was John who had found him. He loved all his brothers, but John was the one who was always so calm. He would joke around just like the rest of them, but he would never go too far, and he always knew how to make things better.

John mentally swore. How could they all have been so stupid to think that everything was fine? _He _was still having nightmares, for crying out loud, and he was an adult. They had all just assumed Alan was fine, just like he always was. He rested his forehead against his brother's, "Everything's over, Allie, I promise. Dad'll never let anything get that close to the family again." Alan nodded slowly. He seemed to have calmed down, but John was still worried, "Think you can stand up?"

Alan was going to answer that he could, but he suddenly wasn't so sure. His head was spinning again, and his legs felt like water. Instead, he settled for, "I don't know."

John gave him a reassuring smile. "Put your arm around me."

Alan complied, and unsteadily they stood up. John led his swaying brother through to the living area, helping him to sit down on a sofa. He watched in dismay as Alan immediately drew his feet off the floor curled up again. He was shivering, but with the temperature outside, there was no way he could be cold. Nevertheless, John grabbed a blanket off the back of the sofa and draped it around Alan's shoulders, sitting down next to him. He was pretty sure the shivering was a side-effect of the panic attack, but it didn't stop him from wishing Virgil and the others would hurry up and get home quicker; without the Tracy family, the island always seemed overwhelmingly bigger.

Putting an arm around his brother, John once again let Alan lean into him. They didn't speak for quite a while, and he soon realised that Alan had fallen into a light sleep, exhausted. It wasn't long before a clattering could be heard in the kitchen, and roaring sounded overhead as their family returned home for breakfast.

John desperately wanted to go to meet them, but he didn't want to think about what would happen if Alan woke up alone, so instead he had to wait for them all to get changed and meander in for breakfast.

He didn't have to wait long before their father and Scott came in going over the schematics of the rescue. Both stopped when they saw the remainder of their family on the sofa, "John?" The scene could have been innocent enough, but Alan never slept in the day once he was awake, and something about the way John was holding his younger brother made alarm bells ring for their father.

John ignored the questioning tone. He had already decided he didn't want to tell them about this in front of Alan in case he woke up, so instead he directed his speech at his elder brother, keeping his voice low, "Scott, can you sit with him? If he wakes up, just keep talking to him. I need to speak with Dad."

Worry immediately clouded the eldest Tracys' features, but Scott complied nonetheless, taking John's place on the sofa, momentarily shocked at how his normally independent little brother shifted slightly, taking a loose grip on his shirt. He also noticed that Alan's face was not peaceful, but troubled even in sleep, and his eyes red as if he had been crying. All of his muscles were tense. He looked sharply up at John, but didn't move, worry coiling in his stomach; Alan had been fine yesterday.

John took his father by the arm, and led him out of the room. Seeing Virgil and Gordon on their way over, he indicated for them to follow. Confused, the brothers complied, and they all went into Jeff's office, John shutting the door behind them. Virgil was the first to speak, "What's going on? Where's Scott?"

"He's with Alan." John replied, his sombre tone catching his other brothers' attention.

"What happened, John?" Their father asked, "You didn't mention anything on the comms."

"It happened after I signed off. I thought I hear some yelling and came to investigate, walking in on Alan having a full blown panic attack."

"_What?_" Jeff's heart leapt to his throat.

"He's still really shaky, but I managed to get him out of here and into the living room, where he fell asleep. He woke up and couldn't find anyone. Dad, he thought we were all dead."

Gordon swore, "I thought the kid was doing alright?"

John shrugged, "So did I."

"Well, can you blame him for flipping out?" Virgil commented worriedly, "There's only so much stress a person can handle before they need some sort of outlet, and his spring break has hardly been easy. I'll check him over, and we'll see how it goes from there."

John nodded, "I don't think we should make a big deal of it; it'd just make Alan more self-conscious, but I think you need to talk to him Dad."

Jeff Tracy nodded; he didn't need to be told.

The four moved back into the living room, just as Alan was waking up. He sat up slowly, a pained frown creasing his features. Confusion clouded his voice, "Scott? What's going on?"

Scott studied his little brother's face carefully, "You tell me, sprout. We only just got back."

"Got back from where? How did I get here?" The confusion was becoming more evident now. He looked up as the rest of the family walked in, "Dad?"

There was something in Alan's expression and voice, combined with what John had just told them which spurred Virgil to ask what seemed to the rest of the Tracys to be such an odd question, "Alan, what's the last thing you remember?"

Alan frowned, but compliantly answered the question, "Going to bed. Scott was gonna take me out on a training session." John's stomach plummeted. The kid had only been asleep for a little while, but he didn't remember any of the morning? Alan seemed to be getting more nervous by the minute, "What's wrong?"

Jeff sat down on the other side of his son, while the others took seats on the opposite sofas, "You had a panic attack this morning, Alan." Alan's expression remained fixed in confusion, while Scott had to force himself to keep a blank face at this revelation, "We were all out on a rescue, but John was here and managed to calm you down."

Alan was having trouble assimilating what his father was trying to say, "But I don't remember anything. Why can't I remember?" Fear began to colour his tone.

"You might not have been awake." Virgil suddenly offered.

Everyone turned to him. Gordon voiced his confusion at his brother's suggestion, "How do you figure that one? From what John said he sounded pretty damn awake to me."

"Gordon." Jeff admonished; there was no need to make this situation more charged than it already was.

"It could have been a night terror. Worse than a nightmare, and most people who have them don't remember when they wake up. They create intense feelings of fear and panic, and can be triggered by extreme circumstances or trauma in adults. They can give the appearance of wakefulness, when actually you're not taking to a conscious person." Virgil explained.

John shook his head, "But he was walking around."

"I'm not a psychiatrist, John, but it sounds like it. I could make some calls..." He trailed off.

There was silence for a while as everyone absorbed the suggestion, "Will it happen again?" Alan asked. It wouldn't be so bad with his family around, but what if it happened when he went back to Wharton for the summer term?

"I don't know. It could just have been a one off triggered by the Hood's attack."

Anymore discussion was cut off by the call of breakfast from the other room, and the voices of the island's other inhabitants floating through. Jeff motioned for his sons to go and eat. Alan stayed where he was next to his father as the rest of them walked out, glancing back worriedly over their shoulders. "You should eat something, Alan."

"So should you." His son absently retorted, his eyes staring down at the table, but not really seeing it.

"It'll be fine." Jeff tried.

Alan smiled, his gaze neither wavering nor blinking, "Yeah." He got up and followed his brothers.

Jeff sighed, pinching the tiredness out of his eyes. Why was it always Alan?

* * *

Alan stood out on his balcony, watching the jungle sway placidly in the ocean breeze. The 'incident', as Alan referred to it in his mind, had happened a few days ago, and it would only be a little while longer before he was due to return to Wharton. Nothing had happened since, and Virgil was now optimistic that it was just a delayed reaction to all the stress the family had been subjected to recently. Alan was not so sure, but he neglected to mention anything, trying to shrug it off as nerves about finally becoming a part of the Thunderbirds.

He smiled sardonically, closing his eyes as the breeze created a gust that swept past him through the open doors into his room. And then his stomach lurched, and he suddenly found himself off balance, falling heavily into the balcony railings, only just catching a grip to stay upright. His breath was suddenly coming short and sharp, stinging his lungs. What the..? He willed himself to calm down, feeling the thudding of his now rapid heartbeat take what seemed to be an eternity to slow back to its original pace. Regaining his footing, Alan scrubbed his hands over his face, shoving the feeling to the back of his mind. It had been nothing. He was fine.

"Alan?" A soft voice floated from the depths of his room before his older brother John emerged out onto the balcony, "Alan, it's dinner; I've been calling- Alan, are you okay?"

Damn John. He was the only other one in his family who seemed to not fully buy into the one-off episode idea, and had been keeping a closer eye on him than even Dad. He forced the strange incident to the back of his mind and quirked a lopsided smile, "Sure. Hungry though, let's go!"

John watched his brother's retreating back with a frown. Something was wrong, he knew it, but just couldn't work out what. Sighing to himself, he followed the youngest Tracy to where the extended family had already sat down to eat, minus the water-child of the family, who had been acting as liaison on the mainland to help organise resources for the rebuilding of Thunderbird Five. Gordon had _not_ been happy about leaving, but it had all been arranged before Alan's 'incident', and there was no denying it needed to be done. Nevertheless, he would be arriving later that evening, after finally securing all the deals earlier that day.

Dinner was an amicable affair as usual, and as no rescues had been conducted in the past 24 hours, it was an especially cheery atmosphere; Alan tried to dismiss John's extra looks over at him as paranoia on his part. Afterwards, Alan went down to the beach with Tintin and Fermat, and it was not until long after the sun had set, and the trio were walking back up to the complex that Alan heard jet engines fly over the island and land, "Wonder what that's about?" He wondered, but most of his comment was lost on the night air, and his friends failed to hear.

Fermat and Tintin both bid goodnight and headed off to their respective parents as Alan walked towards the living room, where he could hear the laughter of his family drifting out into the hall. He froze in the doorway.

Gordon turned, "Hey sprout! Miss me?"

Alan stared, face white, "W-what?"

Jeff frowned at his son's sudden change in mood, "Alan?" He rose from his seat and began to walk towards his tense son, "You okay?"

"This isn't real." Alan's breath was once again catching in his throat and he didn't know where to turn.

All of the family were on their feet now, Gordon stepped forwards, "Hey, kid, calm down."

Alan stumbled backwards, "Get away from me!" His wrenching yell made the family freeze. Tears began to well in his eyes, "You're, you're _dead! _You're not real!" His voice choked on the word, and he fled from the room.

One second the men were frozen, the next their father was yelling orders, "Wait here! Virgil, I'm going to need your help!"

The other three Tracy brothers desperately wanted to protest with their father's instructions, but knew it would be bad if they crowded Alan right now. John chewed on his lip as he watched their father and Virgil dash after the frightened teenager, "I knew something was wrong earlier. I should have made him talk." He turned to Gordon, who looked shaky, "You okay?"

"What? Yeah, sure. It's just..." He trailed off, the concept of being dead in his brother's eyes being too much to put into words.

"He wasn't asleep." Scott muttered.

"What?"

"He must've come back from the beach, and wasn't dressed for bed. So there goes Virgil's theory, unless he's got an explanation."

"What now?" Gordon asked.

"We wait." Scott tone was final.

* * *

Alan tore through the halls of his home, not really paying attention to where he was going, only that he had to get away. That _couldn't _have been Gordon! His brother was dead! And the rest of his family were acting as if there was nothing strange going on! He couldn't deal with this, it was too much, too close to the loss of his brother for him to even think about trying to cope.

He skidded into a bedroom, slamming the door, and retreated to a shadowy corner opposite the door, sliding down and hugging his knees. His head pounded with emotion, and his skin prickled and crawled. He felt trapped.

This wasn't right.

The door burst open, revealing his father, wearing a drawn, worried expression, "Alan?" He didn't want to answer; he shouldn't have to explain. Jeff tentatively drew closer, before bending before his son to make eye contact, "Alan, it's your father. Do you know where you are? Want to tell me why you ran away?"

He reached forwards, intent on placing a hand on Alan's shoulder, only for his son to jerk violently away, "Why did I run away?" Alan parroted, his tone poisonous and cracking with hysteria, "Because my dead brother was sitting on the fucking sofa, that's why! I'm seeing things, Dad. Gordon's _dead! _The Hood killed him; he died _up there!_"

Jeff blinked in shock at his son's words, feeling Virgil's anxious presence at his back. Very gently, he tried to calm Alan down, to explain, "Alan. Your brothers are all very much alive. No one died on Thunderbird Five-"

"Don't call it that! You built it and now it's your fault he's gone! He's dead and gone and never coming back! He _can't _be here! You're lying!" Alan's screams cut across Jeff, making his father wince.

"Alan-"

"No!" The yell was desperate and final as he fought against his father's grip, trying to escape once more.

As much as he hated to, he called for his other son, "Virgil! Please!"

Silently, Virgil moved forwards, only just about succeeding in administering a light sedative to his thrashing brother. As Alan began to relax in Jeff's arms, and his eyes began to droop, Virgil bent down next to the pair, "It won't knock him out for long – three to four hours maybe." There was a pause before Virgil gathered the courage to say what needed to be said, "Dad..."

"I know." Jeff stopped him, "But we'll wait until he wakes up first. I want to talk to him when he is hopefully a little more lucid. We're going to need to move him somewhere more comfortable."

"He can have this room." The rest of the Tracy brothers were standing in the doorway. Gordon stepped forwards, "I don't mind using a guest room."

Virgil shook his head, "No offence Gords, but the kid thought you were dead. I don't think waking up in your room will help matters."

"He still ran to this room though." John pointed out, so quietly it was more to himself than the family.

"We'll put him in his room, and wait until he wakes up." Jeff's tone left no room for argument, and the family grimly nodded in agreement.

* * *

Alan felt like he was drowning. He struggled and struggled to reach the surface, but it was just so hard, and he was just so tired. Finally, he managed one last push, and found that his eyes were able to open. His head pounded to the extent that it made him feel physically sick, and his eyes were sore and itchy. He watched the ceiling for a moment, before taking into account his surroundings. The last thing he remembered...well, he couldn't really pin it down, but he was pretty sure it had been important. He turned his head. His father was sound asleep on a chair, elbows and head resting on Alan's mattress. The man was snoring softly as the morning light showed just how stressed his father was. "Good morning sunshine."

Alan turned his head ever so slightly, bringing into view his older blond brother, smiling softly and equally as tiredly from his adjacent seat, "You had us worried – we didn't expect you to sleep this long; you must've been exhausted. How're you feeling? Remember much of last night?" John was clearly on edge, but his quiet brother did a good job of masking it. Alan gave a pointed look at their father, John smiled, "He fell asleep a little over an hour ago."

Alan cleared his throat, suddenly finding it as dry as sandpaper, "What happened last night?"

John chewed on his lip, clearly nervous about being the one to break the news, "You had another one of those episodes, Allie." At his brother's overwhelmingly confused frown, he elaborated, "You thought Gordon was dead." John knew he should probably have woken their father, but also thought it would be a good idea to break the news while Alan was still half asleep. He braced himself, fearing the worst response.

Worst didn't even cover it.

"Who's Gordon?"

John gaped, his normally neutral, passive countenance shattered, "I-_what?_"

Alan frowned at his elder brother; he was acting really strange, "I don't know anyone called Gordon. What are you talking about?"

John started slightly as their father woke up, "Alan! How are you feeling?"

Alan shrugged, sitting up slightly, "But rough, but I'll live. John said I had a freakout like last time."

Jeff looked visibly relieved at his son's response, while John's expression only continued to get more worried, "Allie, I know this question might sound odd, but who do we live with?"

Alan tilted his head to one side, analysing the strange question, "What, you mean like Fermat?" He shrugged, listing the names, "Brains, Fermat, Tintin, Kyrano and Onaha."

"And the rest of the family?" John prompted.

Alan's frown of confusion deepened, "Dad, you, me and Scotty." His eyes cast to the floor, before continuing, "If you're trying to work out if I remember recent events, then I know Virgil's gone."

Jeff and John exchanged looks. This was both impossible, and beyond bad; Alan's condition was deteriorating. Jeff continued from John's prompt, "How did Virgil die, Alan?"

Alan's eyes snapped open, their depths blazing with fire, "_Die?_ I wish he _had_ died! Is this some kind of joke? Stupid bastard falls for that gold digging bitch and abandons us! He doesn't live with us anymore, and I don't ever want to see his smug, self-righteous expression again in my life! _Ever!_"

Jeff was so shocked that he fell into an automatic response, "Watch your language."

Alan shrugged, "Your words, not mine."

John exchanged a nervous glance with his father, who somehow managed to pull off a weak smile. "Alan, why don't you grab a change of clothes in time for breakfast? John?" He rose, knowing his other son would follow.

As soon as they had shut the door and were a good way down the corridor, Jeff collapsed heavily against the wall. Under normal circumstances, he would try to be strong for his boys, but John was an adult, and right now he didn't think he could hold up a front for all of them. John placed a hand on his father's shoulder, "What are we going to do?"

Jeff shook his head, "I'm going to have to get hold of a psychiatrist. He's forgetting his _family_ for goodness sake! What if..." He let the sentence hang in the air.

John tried to reassure his father, but wasn't quite sure how to go about it, "Alan will get through. He's a stubborn kid."

Jeff nodded absently, "I'm going to make some calls. Do you think you could talk to the others? I don't think it would be a good idea for Virgil to show his face right now, and seeing as Gordon is a complete stranger to Alan now, maybe it would be best if they both made themselves scarce." John winced; neither of his brothers were going to like that idea. "Just...try to act normal."

John let out a breathy half-laugh, "Normal. Great. And what if we get a rescue call?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." Jeff shook his head, and gathered himself to take the walk long to his office.

John stayed where he was for a little while longer, absently watching the corridor that would take him back to the room of his youngest brother. This just wasn't fair. He thought back to the past few days since he had found Alan in their father's office. He had been avoiding them since then, but John had tried to be constant presence. Hearing his brother ask if their father was dead had freaked him out more than he would likely ever admit, and he hadn't wanted to leave the youngest Tracy alone. He knew his father and Scott had been sticking to the kid like glue as well, but... He frowned. Gordon had been forced away, while Virgil, although worried, had been pretty positive the problem had been one off and was content to let Alan sort himself out. Neither brother had had much contact with Alan since the incident in comparison with the rest of the family. He shook his head, dispelling the stupid notion. Alan remembered everyone else, didn't he? Why would he go selectively erasing his own family?

John ran a hand through his hair, trying to gain some perspective before going off to inform his brothers.

* * *

Alan pulled a fresh t-shirt over his head, trying to focus on dispelling the foggy feeling from his brain. John and their Dad had been acting so weird, but for the life of him, Alan couldn't remember what they had actually been talking about. Unfamiliar names ghosted their way across his mind, so insubstantial, so meaningless. He rubbed his forehead- why did he feel so...empty? And yet at the same time, the pressure beneath his skull was sure to cause a fracture it was so strong.

He shoved on his sneakers and pushed open his door.

And froze.

His heart thudded in his ears. Where the hell was he? This wasn't his home! This was some damn expensive place, and most definitely not his home! Instead of the traffic of New York, all he could hear was the sound of the breeze, and...was that the ocean? He whirled around to face the direction he had come, seeing a room that _looked _like his own, in that there was crap absolutely everywhere, discarded schoolwork over an untouched desk and various posters splattered across the walls, but it was a damn sight larger, brighter, and definitely not _his _room!

Terror ripped through him, and he screamed the first thing that came to his mind, "_Mom!_"

To Be Continued...

Author notes: There you have it. This is a two parter, and the conclusion will be up soon, but until then, I'd really love to hear your opinions!

(Revision: 14th May 2010 for continuity of spelling.)


	2. Part Two

Author Notes: Wayhey! Exams are finished, and so's this chapter! Thank you so much for the feedback - I was really surprised! Hope the conclusion lives up to your expectations!

Part Two

Alan's cry reverberated around the halls of the Tracy home. Everyone gathered on the sofa listening to John recount what was happening froze, and then Jeff came tearing out of his office, "Was that Alan?" John, who was the only one standing up, nodded grimly. Jeff paled, "John, Scott, come with me. Gordon, prepare Tracy One, we're taking Alan to the mainland whether he likes it or not. The rest of you – make yourself scarce. The doctor I talked to told me extra confusion could only make this worse. Now!"

No one liked the idea of being useless, but complied, while the eldest Tracy brothers tore after their father, quickly catching up just in time to collide with a terrified Alan, who leapt backwards as soon as he crashed into Scott. His eyes were wild and scared, "Who the hell are you? Where's my Mom? Where am I?"

Jeff's heart plummeted, "It's me, Alan, your father, and Scott and John."

Something flickered behind Alan's eyes, "Johnny?" His voice wavered, "John, what's going on? Who are these people?"

With a quick glance at his father, John pushed past them in the narrow corridor, approaching his brother, who, much to his growing unease, latched onto his arm, wary eyes never leaving the two people he couldn't understand the identity of, "It's okay, Allie, everything's fine, I promise."

Alan frowned, pressing himself further into what he saw as his only lifeline to what he knew. _They're dead._ His mind was certain of that fact, but he had nothing to compare the faces. His imagination played out screams and blood, offset against a bright blue sky, "My father and brother died when I was a baby." His voice was stronger now with his brother beside him. He repeated his earlier question, "Now where the hell is our Mom?"

John thought he could literally hear his father's heart break, the anguish in his face reflected in that of Scott. He felt so out of his depth. Why was he the only one Alan remembered? And why did he think their Dad and Scott had died instead of their Mom? "Everything's okay, sprout. Don't you remember? We're staying with my friend Scott's family while Mom is away on business. You know how antsy Mom gets when she goes away – she didn't want me to look after you by myself back home, remember?" It killed John to make the story up, to play to Alan's confusion, but he didn't want the situation escalating, and figured that seeing as Alan hadn't actually known their mother, he might 'remember' things at John's prompting. He desperately tried not to make eye contact with their father, unable to watch his expression as he spoke.

Alan blinked owlishly up at his big brother. She did? John never lied to him; they were best friends, and besides, he was so bad at it anyway. It did make sense. Mom had gone through a lot when she had lost not only their father but his other brother, Scott, as well. He couldn't remember either of them, and always felt strange when they were brought up. He shook his head slightly. She did, he remembered. He smiled, "Yeah, sure, I'm really, really sorry. Waking up in a strange place does that to me sometimes." He flashed a smile that made John's heart clench.

Suddenly none of them knew what to do. Could they persuade Alan to get on a jet? Jeff fixed John with a stare, and was relieved to see his son nod almost imperceptibly; he understood. John took a deep breath, rapidly fashioning a lie in his mind, "So sprout, you ready to get going?"

"Huh?" Alan glanced up at his brother in confusion.

John rolled his eyes, and put on the well known why-is-my-younger-brother-being-such-an-idiot voice, "We're going to the mainland to check out the town with Gordon." Alan didn't even flinch at the name, and so John reluctantly ploughed forwards, turning to his father, "You still coming along for the ride Mr Smith?" He almost wanted to slap himself for his unimaginative name, but to be honest, the fabrication of the story alone had been a pretty impressive feat for the Tracy who really couldn't lie.

Jeff swallowed, and nodded, "I'll meet you there."

* * *

The ride to the Addenbrookes Psychiatric Hospital just outside New York, and hopefully the saviour psychiatrist of the family, was uncomfortably loud. Now fully relaxed with the rapidly put together scenario John had created, Alan chattered away to his brother, who could do nothing else but respond while their father sat by Gordon, both listening quietly; the rest of the family had wanted to come, but after seeing the pained, stressed expression on Jeff's face, they had let the matter drop. In a few short hours, Alan had constructed an elaborate history for himself, John and their mother, and it broke Jeff's heart.

Alan paused, frowning, "How far out _is _this island?"

John smiled comfortingly, "Pretty damn far actually."

Alan peeked out of the window, watching the sea give way to land and everything blur together at an impossibly fast speed. He closed his eyes, his stomach churning. He hated machines, he remembered. And heights. It was all...unnatural.

John watched his brother with concern, "Hey, Allie, you okay?"

"Uh huh. Just can't wait 'till we get out of the air, that's all." He rubbed his neck absently, sending John a reassuring smile.

Gordon gritted his teeth at the comment, trying to keep his calm. Forcing himself into routine, he contacted the hospital to tell them they were coming. He exchanged a glance with his father, who looked as worn out as he had ever seen him, face drawn and pale. It was much the same look as when they had been on their way up to Thunderbird 5 not so long ago, fearing the worst about another brother.

Now for the hardest part.

John steeled himself as they set down, preparing for a fight. He knew their father would have asked the psychiatrist to meet them – a Doctor Thomas Layton. And he also knew that once Alan realised what was going on, he would not come quietly. Sure enough, as soon as their feet were on the ground: "John, what's going on? Who are these guys?"

John placed his hand firmly on Alan's shoulder, "This is Doctor Layton. He's here to have a talk with you, to help you."

Alan wrenched away, betrayal stark in his eyes, "Why the hell am I here John? Where's Mom?"

"Mom's dead, Allie. She died when you were little, not Dad or Scott. I'm sorry Alan." John said quietly, raising his eyes to make a connection to his brother's identical ones.

"Liar." Alan spat with venom, taking on the air of a cornered animal, "Tell the truth, John! Where is _Mom_?"

Doctor Layton stepped forwards, "Alan, I would like you to calm down; getting stressed never solves anything. Why don't you all come inside, and you can all explain, in your own words, what is going on?"

Alan glared at the doctor with distrust, but nevertheless wanted to get the facts straight. The pounding in his head doubled, but his viciously pushed the pain to one side. "Fine." His answer was short and sullen, but surprising in its compliance, and for a moment, Jeff could almost see the stubborn son he loved.

When they had reached the doctor's office, Alan paused, "I barely know them – why should they get involved?"

Again, it was John's quiet, calm voice that had the answer, "I'd really like them to be present Allie. Please."

Alan shrugged, pushing past John to take a seat in the office. Gordon could sympathise – at least he had just ceased to exist. Alan rarely took on this air when it came to his brothers, having usually only reserved it for his Dad. It hurt.

"So." Doctor Layton settled himself in a chair opposite Alan, ignoring the one behind the desk. When he had got the call, he had been both confused and concerned. Such a sudden onset of memory loss and delusions was almost unheard of, let alone in a boy of Alan Tracy's age. "Why don't you tell me what's been going on?"

The room was silent for a moment, and the doctor fixed his stare on Alan, who shrugged, "Don't look at me. I don't even know why I'm here. Make John explain."

Thomas watched him placidly for a moment, before turning his gaze on the other blond, who cast his eyes to the floor, gathering his thoughts before beginning. "About a week ago now, the family had a bit of trouble. I got into an accident and almost died, and the rest of the family didn't fare much better. Alan took it hard." He tried not to notice how both Alan and the doctor had identical looks of interest on their faces as if they had never heard the story before. "Everything was fine for a couple of days, but then one morning I was alone in the house with Alan, and heard him yell. I walked in on him having a panic attack. He was convinced we were all dead. He fell asleep not soon after, and when he woke up couldn't remember a thing."

John continued to recount the story in all its painful details, with Alan getting more and more unsettled as it went on. His head was really killing him now, and his thoughts skittered away like light on water, sharp ribbons weaving their way through his jumbled mind. He had a vague notion that John was suggesting he had three additional brothers as well as a very alive father, but he found it impossibly hard to focus.

And then the room slipped away, and there was that familiar feeling of vertigo again, but he wasn't sure how it could be familiar, because he couldn't remember experiencing it before. He blinked rapidly, refocusing on the office, realising that the talking had stopped. The stupid shrink was looking at him, and he had an intense feeling of claustrophobia. "So Alan? What do you think of what our brother has to say?"

Alan blinked at him a few times, trying to work out if he had heard the man right, "I'm an only child. What are you on about? Where's Mom?"

"What?" John felt like his very essence had been drenched in liquid nitrogen. "Alan, it's me!"

Alan shrugged, "I have no idea who the hell you are, or what kind of weird ideas you have. Can I go?"

Layton wrote something down, before returning his gaze to his patient. He kept his voice light and calm, as if his thoughts were inconsequential, "You knew that John was your brother when you came in this room. Can you think why that might have changed?"

"I- what?" Alan stumbled over his words, confusion dripping in a cold sweat down his spine, "No, you're wrong, I..."

He scrunched up his eyes tightly, but quickly stopped as the intense vertigo returned full force, and he thought that his mind hurt so much he could actually hear the grating and screeching on the gears in his mind. He swayed in his seat.

"Alan?" Jeff lurched forwards and caught his son before he ended up in a pile on the floor. He was mumbling something in confusion, but then he shook his head as if to clear it and wrenched away from the stranger, using the desk to lever himself to his feet.

Thomas watched the boy closely, "You know something is not right, Alan, I can see it in your reactions."

"No! You're lying, they're gone!" Alan yelled in desperation, but the doctor remained unmoving and calm. A pillar of stone.

"Who is gone, Alan? I thought you said you were an only child."

"I don't..." Whispers grating across his mind stole his words away, their feather light touch flaring fire in every nerve. The screeching and whirring reached a crescendo, building to a point where Alan's vision began to grey, and his breath came short, forcing him to claw at his neck in an attempt to gain relief.

Strong hands surrounded him, and a voice spoke in his ear. He could not determine the words, but they were soothing and...right. He felt as if his whole being was shattering, breaking, cracking from the inside out.

The veil fell away, and he was falling, desperately clawing to the voice as if he were drowning and it was his lifeline. Maybe he was.

The screeching tore through him, and an imagined metal bit into his hands, a combined feeling of weightlessness and weighed down lead filling his body.

Faces skimmed under the surface of the cacophony, and the last thing Alan comprehended before his fall into blissful darkness was a pair of citrine eyes.

* * *

Alan felt as if he was rising through a mire courtesy of his mind, and his mouth felt dry and arid. He thought he could hear hushed voices, too many to determine the number of people. A frown graced his forehead, and the darkness felt like it was surging, cresting, causing panic to rise in time with a beeping, getting faster and faster, more persistent until Alan's eyes snapped open.

Nausea immersed him cold as the blinding white light pierced his retinas, and he struggled to sit up, only succeeding in getting more and more tangled in wires.

The machines screeched in protest, and suddenly two people in hospital scrubs were at his side. He had no idea what was going on, where he was, and most importantly, where everyone _else _was, "Dad! Get off me! _Dad!_"

Jeff had been sitting outside on one of those hard plastic hospital chairs they always seemed to think made visitors so much more at ease. He, John and Gordon had been joined not too long by Scott and Virgil, who had put their foot down, stating that the world could be falling into the ocean for all they cared, they were _not _just going to sit idle. They had been discussing Alan's case with the doctor, who Jeff could tell was pretty overwhelmed himself, when alarms had started blaring, and orderlies had rushed into the room where Alan was being kept.

Jeff rose from his seat, as did his sons, but the doctor put a hand on his arm, "Alan won't know you – he will only get more distressed. Please wait here Mr Tracy."

No one was really sure if Jeff Tracy would have complied with the doctor's orders, but that situation never presented itself, as suddenly he could hear his youngest son screaming for him, and he was already past Layton and into the room. "Alan?"

"Dad!" Alan was momentarily thrown off balance by the sudden appearance of his father, "What's going on? Why am I in hospital – and will you damn well get _off _me!" He spat the last comment at one of the hospital staff trying to restrain him.

"It's fine." Layton had appeared behind him, and the staff reluctantly nodded, moving out of the room.

Alan took his in surroundings, struggling to sit up in the bed once more. He tried to keep the fear out of his voice when he regarded his father once more. The other man had shut the door, "What happened?"

A firm look from Layton got Jeff to sit down and be quiet for the moment, having to content himself with taking his son's hand, an act that only heightened Alan's disorientation. "My name is Doctor Layton, Alan, I've been treating you. Could you tell me what the last thing you remember is?"

Alan frowned, tripping over his words as he tried to order his thoughts in his aching head, "I...Dad...I..." He fixed his father with a pleading look, too tired to work out how to respond. He settled for the basics, "We were in London."

Jeff's face must have held obviously shock, because Layton turned to him, "Mr Tracy?"

"That was over a week ago now." He tried to keep his voice neutral, but the sudden terror that his words conjured in his son's face told him he had been pretty unsuccessful.

"Alan?" The doctor leaned forwards, checking the monitoring machines, "You need to calm down. I know this is scary, but we'll work through it, okay?"

Alan looked trapped. In the end, he settled for what he saw as the most viable option, "Are my brothers here?"

Jeff could have laughed out loud there and then. He had been worried not so long ago that he would never hear Alan say those words again. "Yes, they're all here – just outside."

"But I think it would be better if we continued to talk between just the three of us." The doctor cut across him, "Alan, I want you to run through the last day you remember step by step."

Alan went pale, glancing at his father, "I don't...I'm tired. Can't we do it later?"

"It would be better-"

"No!" Alan winced, not having meant for his protest to be so forceful, but he didn't trust himself not to let something slip to this guy, especially seeing as a quick check over informed him that he wasn't actually physically injured, which begged the question just what kind of doctor this guy was, "No. I'm really tired. Can Dad stay?"

Doctor Layton was reluctant, but knew a losing battle when he saw one, "Very well, but _only_ your father. I don't want you too overwhelmed. I'll be back in a few hours to see how you're getting on."

As soon as he had left, Alan turned to his father, "Dad, what's going on? Who was that guy? What-"

"Allie, slow down. Everything will be okay, I promise."

"_How?_ The last thing I remember is hanging off that walkway in the bank with the Hood looking up at me, and you tell me that was a _week_ ago! How is this gonna be fine, Dad?" Fear laced his voice, and he looked to his father as if he knew how to fix everything. It probably didn't help that said father made a habit of saving the world.

Jeff sighed, brushing a hand through his son's hair. He couldn't remember his son being this openly scared in a long time, but then as far as Alan was concerned, it was only a few hours since his family had almost died. And so he explained, starting once more from the beginning. At some point, four other Tracys had succeeded in giving hospital security the slip, and had taken up places around their baby brother.

"My head hurt." Alan's voice punctuated his father's. He was staring down, twisting and knotting his fingers into the bed sheet.

"What?" Virgil frowned, "You never said anything."

"He tried to get into my head, back on the island. It was...really creepy. He kept trying, and my head _really_ hurt. And then, in the bank..." He trailed off, absently rubbing his throat once more, an action Jeff recognised. He reached up and took his son's hand before moving to perch on the bed, allowing a suddenly exhausted Alan to lean on him. "He wanted me to let him fall. He knew it would be the thing that would hurt the most, and he...his eyes, they...and my head felt like it was splitting in two, and the walkway shifted, and we were falling for a second. Everything was so loud, and people were yelling, and..." He curled into his father.

Somehow, Jeff managed to keep his outward emotive response in check, but he had to send both Scott and Gordon a warning look as he could practically feel the anger radiate from them, "Everything will be okay, I promise."

"You don't know that. The next thing I remember is sitting down somewhere, and there was a voice, and everything really hurt, but then it faded and suddenly I was waking up here."

John shared a look with Gordon, "That must've been in Layton's office. You collapsed, and would've hit your head on the desk if Dad hadn't caught you in time."

"I want to go home." They weren't sure if Alan had heard John's theory, as he was now looking at their father imploringly.

Jeff nodded, knowing the stress of keeping secrets would only hinder Alan's recovery. "I'll see what I can do."

And when you're a billionaire, that's a fairly long list.

* * *

Alan sat on the tiny sandy plateau. Tomorrow, he would be returning to Wharton, and the general concept seemed too surreal. After all he had seen and experienced in such a short space of time, the very idea presented itself as petty and futile. It was not as if he did not understand his father's reasoning for forwarding his son's education, but the prospect of returning to that vicious school atmosphere was not something he relished thinking about.

He hugged his knees, shivering slightly from the cool evening sea breeze, but not wanting to talk the long trek back inside to grab a jumper.

He remembered the last time he had sat up here with his two best friends, convinced his family were going to die, that they would lose their home to a madman.

"Allie?" A soft voice skipped across the wind, and he turned to see John making his way up the overgrown path, a hoodie dangling loosely from his hand, which he promptly threw over to his brother before sitting down next to him. "Fermat said you'd be up here. You all set for tomorrow?"

"Are you?" Alan retorted quietly. John would also be leaving the island tomorrow, to return to the finally repaired Thunderbird 5.

John shrugged, "I miss the stars," was all he said on the matter, before nudging his brother with his shoulder, "And don't turn a question on its head – it's annoying."

Alan smirked, "I'll miss everyone. I know I have to go back, but..." He left the thought hanging. But what if he forgot again? After consulting a myriad of sources, doctors, and talking it through, they were all pretty sure it had been some sort of backlash from the Hood's power, and how he had taken such an interest in Alan particularly. Tintin and her father had helped a great deal in that regard. It didn't stop the fear from festering though, eating away at him.

John sighed, understanding the unspoken message. They had done everything for Alan since it had happened, short of going to confront the Hood himself, an act that Jeff had explicitly forbade by use of some particularly choice phrases. Scott had not been happy, but John could see the reasoning; better to let the man rot than give him the opportunity to try and hurt them again. "We're all just a phone call away, you know that. And I'm pretty sure that Scott will be attached to you like some sort of mutant limpet for the next couple of months."

Alan let out a breathy laugh; John had an incredible ability to cheer him up. Their Dad always said it was because they were the most alike. While John was the quieter one, the two brothers were on the same wavelength, and the age gap combined with John not being in Alan's face as much as the others meant they were a lot closer from when they were younger. Alan's face fell; Dad also said they were the two sons who were so much like their mother.

In the past few days, he had been dreaming of snippets from the time he had lost, and he knew his mind had resurrected his mother. He wished, however stupidly, that he could have those 'memories' for real, even if they were just make-believe.

John watched his little brother closely. He hadn't turned up for dinner, and their father had been worried sick. John could tell it was going to be a tough few months for him, with two of his sons – incidentally the two he had come the closest to losing – moving away. But they would get through it, they always did.

"You coming, Allie? I'm pretty sure there are some leftovers." He rose offering Alan his hand.

Alan snorted, "My name is Alan, _Johnny_." He stressed the name he had used to use for his brother when they had been little.

John quirked an eyebrow, "Really? And who's the bigger brother here? I've known your name longer than you have."

Alan smiled softly, dropping the matter. He didn't really mind. It had been a habit all his family had fallen back into recently, and if he was honest, he sort of liked it. If they ever used in at his school, he would kill them, but here, at home... He smiled, brushing the sand of his jeans as he and John began to pick their way down the path. It was funny how things turned out. Not that long ago, he had been sick of being the 'kid', the baby of the family, the screw-up. But now, now he didn't have to hide. It took almost losing your family for revelations like that.

The fears built on by the Hood had faded into the background, slipped away like shadows on a pond.

It was enough.

**FIN**

Author Notes: There you have it; hope the reasoning behind the whole thing was clear. I'd live to know what you all thought, and thanks again for the support!


End file.
